


My Very Own Porn Star

by bloodsongs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Additional Fanart, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Light D/s, M/M, Public Sex, Secret Relationship, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/pseuds/bloodsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Knight tops in the porn films he stars in for a living, directed by the shy and eccentric Merlin Emrys. No one knows exactly what Merlin's thinking when he's in his director's chair, but if they did, they'd get some choice firsthand insights as to how much Merlin enjoys watching Arthur fuck other men — before claiming Arthur (and his arse) for his own at night behind closed doors.</p><p>[Fic + 3 artworks]</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Very Own Porn Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [La_Temperanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/gifts).



> This is really late, but happy belated birthday, **Fuckyeah**! I hope you enjoy your present. ♥ (Now you know why I took forever.)
> 
> My warmest thanks to **Deminos** for supporting me through this, to **crimsonswirls** who provided me with a quick art beta and to **remyllian_fire** for wading through the porn.

It’s a pretty picture, the way Arthur pins Mordred’s lithe body down with his own on the other end of the room, swallowing his moans and gasps in brutal kisses as they move in tandem over messy red sheets. Mordred’s a thrasher. His fingers scrabble at Arthur’s back as he locks his ankles around Arthur’s waist, looking like he’s hanging on for dear life while Arthur fucks him into the mattress.

Merlin shifts minutely on his director’s chair, tapping his fingers against one armrest, parting his legs the slightest bit so he can palm himself through his slowly tightening trousers. It’s not like anyone can see him doing this in the dimly lit room, what with the spotlights focused on the writhing bodies in front of him. 

Arthur does know how to put on a show.

“Arthur Knight’s not famous for nothing,” one of the camera boys murmur behind Merlin, awed. The stage name always sounds awkward when someone other than Arthur says it, somehow. “He really tops like he was born for it.”

“He’s never bottomed in this industry.” The other camera boy next to him whispers back, sighing, as if he’s had to explain this a few times before. “Since he started, he’s only topped. Stayed that way when he started working with Mr. Emrys.”

Hiding his smile, Merlin ducks his head, but keeps his eyes on Arthur, pretending to adjust his glasses.

“ _Cor_ ,” the first boy says appreciatively, swallowing when Arthur yanks Mordred’s arms away from his back to slam them against the bed, pulling one of Mordred’s legs up and over his shoulder so he can sink deeper inside him. “Never thought Knight’d be working with an indie studio.”

“Eh, yeah. He’s short-tempered, and if you ask me, a bit of a diva. He’s gotten better, though. Mr. Emrys is quiet, but he’s got a magic touch with him. They produce some really good stuff together.”

That much is true; people have said he brings out the best in Arthur, people who’ve otherwise given up trying to talk to or direct Arthur to do anything. Merlin would’ve quietly reprimanded the camera boys for discussing Arthur like that, but he of all people knows how much of an arse Arthur can be. Everyone in Dragoon Studios does, unfortunately — each and every member of staff has roused Arthur’s ire at some point or another. He’s never been afraid to let them know it, whether by shouting their ears off or nearly coming to blows with them. Arthur knows he’s talented, and demands matching recompense, acknowledgment and coffee brewed to bittersweet perfection.

Yes, it had been a bit difficult for everyone when he’d first started with Dragoon three years ago with Merlin’s recommendation. Arthur’d been a complete nightmare working with them on their smaller projects until Merlin had returned from his overseas stint, bewildered at how everyone was cowed by his new recruit and began directing with Arthur as his lead. It was miraculous, others said, the change that had occurred almost overnight. Arthur’d gone along easily with Merlin’s directing, constantly complaining but otherwise a lot more cooperative than he’d ever been with anyone else.

They were too busy marveling at Merlin’s smooth ability to handle Arthur that they never questioned why. Merlin rather likes it that way.

Mordred’s getting louder now, his breathing erratic as Arthur bends down to mouth at his neck, his own matted dark blond hair curling at his nape, glistening with sweat. He cries out softly when Arthur suddenly pulls him up against him, flush against Arthur’s chest, only to pull out and turn him around so his back is to Arthur. Arthur bites down Mordred’s back, never hard enough to leave any marks, and presses Mordred down face-first into the bed, shifting so he’s looking directly at the camera.

At Merlin. 

 

Merlin sits up straighter in his chair. That bastard.

Arthur’s fingers dig into Mordred’s sides as pushes in deeper, Mordred’s eyes snapping open shocked and wild. He’s saying things into Mordred’s ear now, dirty little things, pulling at the lobe with his teeth, making Mordred flush even redder than Merlin’s seen all morning with the words he can catch in the spaces between the begging and gasps. “Such pretty moans,” he hears Arthur say, breathlessly, as one of Arthur’s hands disappear into that blurred frenzy of movement to stroke Mordred’s cock, “Just _look_ at you taking it as you ride me raw.”

Merlin catches another cameraman’s eye, and motions for him to move in for a medium close up. _Money shot,_ he mouths, smiling shyly, and the cameraman nods and gives Merlin the thumbs up. There’s no way Mordred isn’t going to come, messy and filthy and wanton, if Arthur keeps this up. Oh, but Mordred is a lovely thing, a lean and built amateur fencing champion with taut and defined lines to his body that many other men can only dream of; he’s a vision beneath Arthur like this, reduced to cut-off groans as he bites his bottom lip in pleasure, moving back eagerly against Arthur now as he fists the sheets tighter.

“Can’t,” Mordred chokes, just as Arthur fists his fingers tightly in those dark curls, yanking his neck back, thumb to the side of his throat. “I’m—” 

“Come on,” Arthur says, looking down at Mordred, bending down over him to bite at his back, eyes dark beneath his lashes as he repeats Merlin’s familiar words to him. “My perfect little slut, know you can come for me. Do it.”

Mordred does, as messily as Merlin thought he would, staining the sheets as he shudders through it, as Arthur continues to thrust, keeping his wrists pinned to the bed. “Yeah,” he says, strained, squeezing his own eyes shut as he circles his hips, pulling out and stroking himself until he paints Mordred’s back with streaks of come, quiet but for a few soft grunts.

They’d all jokingly called Mordred a debauched Cupid when he’d come in for his first project before, but his relatively softcore performance with Gwaine in their little fake tryst between stableboys — and Merlin had had _so_ much fun working on the props for that one — was nothing compared to this. Sated and fucked out, Mordred really does look debauched like that, his fists uncurling as he turns his head to the side, shivering, struggling to catch his breath.

“Cut,” Merlin says, and his voice sounds far away even to his own ears. 

Arthur’s becoming cheeky lately, trying to prove some kind of point to Merlin. He draws two fingers through the mess on Mordred’s back and licks at them deliberately; smirks at Merlin when he takes them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

Mordred laughs weakly on the bed, Arthur’s little display going unnoticed above him. He’s really kind of cute, actually, Merlin notes. He can’t help smiling when Mordred dimples at him, and finds himself smiling wider when Arthur shoots Merlin a _look_ before he huffs and walks to the other side of the set to wipe himself off. _So predictable._

“Fuck me,” Mordred says. “That was intense; you do this every day, Arthur?” 

“Believe I already did!” Arthur says from over his shoulder to chuckles all around the room, accepting a wet towel from one of the lads and dragging it down his arm. “Well... I get a couple of days off every week. And Merlin’s one of the more considerate directors I’ve worked with, even if he sometimes doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Merlin would protest, but Arthur says that with a soft, private smile, almost to himself. He lets it slide. “Vague and artistic is our Merlin. He doesn’t do that terrible freeze thing with actors.”

“I, um, like to keep things natural,” Merlin says softly, scratching the back of his neck before handing Mordred a towel of his own. Mordred takes it gratefully before burying his face in the sheets and letting out a soft, satisfied sigh. “Focusing more on the emotions and cinematography allows each production to really stand out on its own. It’s flexible enough for the actors to relax, we don’t need to have so many takes... there’re enough big studios for all the other manufactured stuff, anyway.” He coughs and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m excited—”

“He means he tries to get everything done in as little takes as possible,” Arthur cuts in, long-suffering fondness in his voice. Pride, even, but Merlin knows he’ll probably deny it to anyone else until he turns blue. “The people matter to him, the stories. It’s not just fucking or cock sucking or come shots for him.”

Merlin flushes a little at how those words tumble from Arthur’s mouth so carelessly. He has a filthy mouth; Merlin should know. So does Merlin, but hearing Arthur say things like that in normal conversation just... does things to him. Arthur knows it, knows how to manipulate the hilarious fact that Merlin’s been in the porn industry for seven years before Arthur so much as auditioned for a role as a teenager and still blushes at some of the darnedest, unexpected things. Even after Merlin’s years of experience editing close-ups of cocks with clinical precision, zooming in so he can see every little hairy detail.

He doesn’t know what game Arthur’s trying to get him to play, but Merlin’s never backed down from a challenge.

“No,” Merlin says innocently, looking right at Arthur. He usually lets Arthur have his way in making Merlin blush and stammer in front of others, but he’s feeling game for more today. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the way Gwaine deep throats like a champion. Or when Percy spanks someone until he can’t sit straight for days. Arthur’s here particularly great to watch when he talks a guy through fucking him, playing with his arse and teasing him until he says he’ll do anything, just let him come already, _please_.” It’s Merlin’s favourite thing to do to Arthur, really, and Arthur colours too at that shared memory. Gotcha. He smiles at Mordred, continuing what is perfectly normal everyday conversation for him. “Y’know what I mean, yeah?”

“I do.” Mordred mumbles, suddenly shy as if mirroring Merlin earlier. Arthur walks back towards where Merlin’s seated on the edge of the bed now, patting Mordred’s hair. “I’ve not been in many shoots. But Arthur’s right, it’s been really easy here working with your directing. I may not be that good of an actor, but your instructions help.”

“Oh! Um, hey, there’s no need to be formal around me and stuff. Just... call me Merlin.” He can’t help playing a little with Mordred’s curls — they’re really _soft_. 

Arthur’s glowering at him a little, pouting, and Merlin bites his bottom lip as he grins back. _Yeah, what are you going to do about it?_   It’s a game, always, just to see how far they can push each other while having flirtatious moments with others, trying to out-innuendo the other without anyone noticing. Merlin likes keeping things interesting. He knows who bought the silver ring that rests possessively on Arthur’s forefinger, after all, carved with the intricate lines of a small falcon in flight.

“I mean,” he continues, taking his hand away. “All sex is awkward to some extent, and it feels more realistic when you have those little laughing moments, yeah? More relatable. I’ve got to make that look nice, though, even if it feels like a slice of our viewers’ everyday lives. Part of the package.”

Mordred looks up at Merlin, all dimples and brilliant teeth as he flashes Merlin a playful smile, giving Merlin a deliberate once-over. “And a great package it is.”

Merlin can’t help it; he turns completely red and dissolves into little bubbles of laughter and hiccups. He _does_ have a great package, but he wasn’t expecting that. “Mordred,” he wheezes, tears in his eyes, “You’re a _riot._ ”

Mordred just laughs. “But it’s true!”

“Do you, Mr. Emrys?” The bed dips when Arthur sinks one knee into the mattress behind him, his palm brushing against Merlin’s trousers. Maybe no one’s looking, maybe Arthur’s feeling daring, but that’s the moment when he feels the subtle pressure of Arthur trailing his nails up the side of his thigh. “Would you let me find out?”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin says, scandalised. He’s never been this blatant before. A few crew members stop what they’re doing to look at the three of them with interest.

“Is today the day?” Will calls from the side, as if in commentary. “Will Merlin Emrys surrender to Arthur’s cocksure charms at last, while those blue eyes stare intensely into his very soul?”

“This is why you’re not narrator material, Will!” With how demonstrative Arthur’s been as of late, it’s amazing how no one’s sussed out that they’re fucking already. Gwaine’d jokingly called Arthur a besotted puppy, but everyone just seems to think that he’s pursuing shy, inexperienced Merlin with no small of amount of determination and without any promise of Merlin reciprocating his feelings. It always goes like this: Arthur flirts, Merlin blushes, people cheer, and Merlin finds the pressing need to be somewhere else. It’s almost like a show, and it’s exciting for them to play those roles during the day.

At night, though...

“Still frisky?” Arthur tuts, moving his arm behind Merlin to curl firm fingers at the nape of Mordred’s hair.  “Do you need a third round for me to pound it out of your system, Mordred?” His voice is level, but Merlin knows him better than that. Arthur means it, would do it with Merlin watching. Always, _only_ with Merlin watching.

“No, no, I’m good for today.” Mordred rolls so that he’s on his back, eyes closed and squeezed against the bright spotlights above him. “And it _was_ really good, Arthur. I wouldn’t mind another round, but if I had a small white flag, I’d wave it. I think Merlin’s got enough footage now, don’t you?”

“I do, Mordred. And _someone_ ’s keen to break in the newbie,” Merlin murmurs, eyes on Arthur’s back when he gets up from the bed, putting on a dark red shirt. He’s never had to raise his voice in the studio, because the others listen to him when he speaks — except Arthur at his most stubborn, that is. _Sweet Merlin,_ they’d say, _clumsy Merlin._ His adoring staff are all ridiculously protective of him, especially since Arthur came on with his arsenal of creative insults reserved just for Merlin. He lets Arthur get away with it, but only until they’re alone.

Arthur’s turned to look at Merlin now, fingers playing with the edges of his jeans as he drags the zipper up slowly, gaze fixed on Merlin and Mordred. 

“Can’t a bloke simply be friendly and welcoming to his co-star?” Arthur quirks a smile, swaggering over to them with his jeans and shirt still unbuttoned, looking like some disheveled Casanova who’s slept through a trail of lovers. Merlin finds his eyes involuntarily drifting to Arthur’s crotch, knowing he goes commando on his work days just to drive Merlin up the wall with lust. 

When he tears his eyes away, he sees that Arthur’s caught him staring, giving Merlin a furtive, secret little smile before he says, “Maybe I just want to be included in the fun with you two, if you’re having any.” 

“I—” Mordred begins, jaw dropping when he looks up at Merlin. He’s probably imagining it though, from the way he averts his eyes. “It’s not—”

“Don’t take him seriously, Mordred,” Merlin says, sticking his tongue out at Arthur. “He’s just annoyed I haven’t said yes to a date with him yet.”

Merlin stands up and bumps Arthur’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “Hey,” he whispers, raising an eyebrow and trying not to laugh. “What’re you trying to pull? Are you trying to act the horny teenage delinquent on purpose or something?”

Arthur does laugh, though. “Maybe?” He suggests, equally softly.

“I should spank you, you cheeky little shit.” Perhaps he would.

Licking his lips, Arthur grins, tugging briefly at Merlin’s belt before he steps back. “I look forward to that day.”

Merlin just stares at him, disbelieving, while Mordred ﬁnally rolls off the bed, wincing and covering a yawn with the back of his hand. A couple of his personnel shufﬂe briskly over to bunch up the linens for washing, and the studio is slowly ﬁlled with the usual excited chatter after wrapping up.

"I'll see you all of you tomorrow, have a good night's rest," Merlin calls out later as the crowd trickles out of the studio, lights dimming in the room and everywhere in the ofﬁce as people switch off their computers and put away their paperwork. There's a chorus of "Thanks, Merlin!" as his staff laugh, smiling, several of them clapping him on the back as they make their way down the stairs out of the darkened space to the soft glow of lights lining the streets.

"Not heading back yet, Arthur?" Mordred says, hand on the rusty doorknob, his backpack slung over a shoulder. His face is still ﬂushed, hair mussed with gel to afford him some presentability but really doing nothing to hide what he'd been up to with Arthur just an hour before. "And you, Mr. Emry – Merlin?"

"Good save." Arthur leans against the wall, his shirt carelessly done up as he folds his arms, shooting a toothy grin Mordred's way. "I'm just going to talk about my next project with Merlin, and then buy him a pint after today’s great shoot.” He winks at Mordred. “He can occasionally be competent, but here’s an open secret: he sometimes can’t find his own arse."

"I resent that," Merlin says, mock-pouting. He doesn't.

"You really don't," Arthur retorts, doing that strange telepathic thing he sometimes does, and leans over to rufﬂe Merlin's hair. Merlin laughs and ducks, just to be contrary, but Arthur gets him close anyway and hooks an arm around his neck.  "You should join us next time, Mordred," Arthur continues, with a careful, knowing glance at Merlin. "We'd love to get to know you better." 

His real meaning's not lost on Merlin, but Mordred just smiles and drops his head, almost shy to look at Arthur. Maybe the context is a lot subtler than what Arthur’d insinuated back in the studio, but the innuendo completely flies over Mordred’s head this time. His cluelessness is almost sweet, as is the way he completely misses the brief predatory glint in Arthur’s eyes. "That'd be great. See you tomorrow."

When the door shuts, Arthur leans against it, the one dimmed light in the studio glinting off his hair. He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, tilting his head like an invitation. Merlin strides over immediately, his steps hesitant no longer now that no one's here to see them. 

"Going out of your way to make Mordred feel welcome, are you?" He curls his ﬁngers in Arthur's empty belt loops, pressing himself closer against him. "Looks like someone's learned to share." He says that, but between the two of them, Merlin does believe he’s the more possessive one. The nights before Arthur’s off-days, Merlin takes a savage pleasure in leaving marks all over that golden skin, especially where Arthur’s neck meets his shoulder. Arthur grumbles, but he likes being marked — they both know he’ll end up wearing shirts that leave his neck bare for all to see in the morning anyway.

"I knew you'd taken a shine to him," Arthur laughs. Merlin sneaks ﬁngers up his already loosened shirt, feels Arthur go pliant under his touch. "He's pretty cute."

"He is," Merlin agrees, brushing the back of his knuckles down the side of Arthur's jaw and neck, biting gently at the skin he ﬁnds there as Arthur shudders, his breath catching with a cut-off gasp that he can't quite stiﬂe. "He was even cuter when you fucked him, moaning as you called him your little whore, talking so dirty with your pretty mouth like you were made for it. Wasn't he, Arthur?"

Creaking gently with Arthur’s weight, the door is cold under Merlin’s touch, his palm spread while he frames Arthur’s body, glasses shifting awkwardly when Arthur leans in to brush his lips over Merlin’s cheek. “I suppose my teacher wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Ass,” Merlin says, taking the drag of the zipper down Arthur’s jeans nice and slow, trailing his fingers through the dark blond hairs of Arthur’s happy trail and down to the curls on his half-hard cock. “Look at you, eager for it.”

“As if _you_ aren’t?” Arthur has a point; Merlin’s aroused already. “Thought you’d appreciate the easier access anyway,” Arthur continues, flashing his trademark crooked grin and pulling his jeans down before stepping out of them altogether. He’s ridiculously fit, Arthur is, with the hard lines of his body and his strong thighs; Merlin’s always found it difficult to keep his hands off him. He finds them wandering back over Arthur’s exposed skin of their own volition, as if smoothing over the edges of a familiar map. 

Linking their hands together so he holds their arms above Arthur’s head, he nudges Arthur’s naked legs apart with a knee and slides two fingers inside him, finding him as wet and willing inside as he was this morning after he’d taken Arthur on the stairs. They had been the earliest to reach the studio. Their block had another few offices above them and below, and Merlin had covered Arthur’s mouth with his as Arthur cried out during his orgasm, coming untouched against his stomach. So used to their frequent bouts of sex is Arthur that he never has problems recovering in time for a shoot, especially since Merlin’s made sure he’s the only one that gets to see Arthur like this: his legs apart, hole ready for Merlin’s taking.

“I do,” Merlin breathes, locking Arthur’s wrist flat against the door. If Arthur truly wanted to, he could break free of Merlin’s grip, but he gets off on Merlin manhandling him almost as much as Merlin likes having Arthur in all his muscled glory helpless and writhing underneath him. Sure enough, Arthur shivers, his fingers buried in Merlin’s hair while Merlin crooks his fingers this way and that. “You’re getting cocky, showing off like that in front of everyone. In front of me.” Arthur tilts his head back as Merlin kisses the edge of his lips, licking briefly into his mouth where he’d kissed Mordred just an hour before. 

“Mmmm. It’s nice making things interesting. Like what you saw?” Arthur says, voice trailing off when Merlin lets go of his arm to bring one of his legs up and around Merlin’s waist, fingers fucking into him deeper. “Oh, God—”

“My perfect little pet, putting on such a wanton display. Saying the exact things I’d hissed into your ear when we fucked in the stairwell. The lights were on, people were walking by outside — anyone could’ve come in at any time, yet you still moaned so prettily for me as you rode my cock.” It’s an unforgettable image: Arthur’s jeans catching on one ankle, his shirt rucked up and head slamming back against the wall every time Merlin thrust inside him, brushing against his sweet spot right there.

“Yeah.” Arthur’s grinding slowly against Merlin now, his cock wet and leaking, leaving stains on the front of Merlin’s pants. “Yeah, ‘course I did. I like showing off for you. It’d be nice to, to... to have someone catch us— oh. Oh. _Yes._ Tell me how you want to fuck me, Merlin, _talk_ to me.” 

“You don’t need much opening up now, do you? You’re still wet with my come, so slick, bet I could just fuck you—” He lines his cock up against Arthur’s hole and slides in, one smooth quick thrust as Arthur bites his lip, “—just like this, yeah, because you like being up against the wall like a common alley whore.” One of his favourite fantasies. “Paid off with a few tenners to have me take you from the back while you brace yourself with your arms and legs spread, cock leaking in my hand.”

Arthur groans, flushing red all over. It’s a sweet revenge after how he flustered Merlin earlier. “I can’t get enough of your mouth.”

“Like when it’s around your cock?” Merlin says, smirking. Arms lock around his neck while Merlin lifts Arthur’s other leg, letting Arthur cross his ankles around Merlin’s waist. He continues thrusting shallowly into Arthur, teasing, his grip on Arthur’s hips keeping him in place while Arthur tries fruitlessly to sink deeper onto his cock. “Or when I’m eating you out, tongue licking into you when I’ve tied you up and you can’t do anything but thrash and shout?”

“Fuck off,” Arthur says breathlessly, because he hates and loves it when Merlin does it, really rendering him completely helpless at Merlin’s mercy. He never comes so hard as he does when he’s been teased for ages, Merlin sucking his cock and drawing off, rimming him while he scrabbles fruitlessly at the sheets. Merlin loves Arthur’s wild abandon and how he lays everything bare in sex, but most of all he loves making Arthur _scream._

“You _are_ getting cocky.” He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. There’s never a dull moment with Arthur around. “Trying to rile me on purpose so I’ll teach you a lesson? Careful of what you wish for.”

His glasses are taken off his face as Arthur leans in to kiss him, eyes already sleepy with the headiness of lust. He pulls Merlin closer to deepen the kiss, open-mouthed and filthy. Arthur at least has the presence of mind to tuck the glasses into Merlin’s front pocket. Hanging off his arms and rumpled at his elbows, his sweat-soaked red shirt sets off his golden colouring beautifully in the dim light, emphasising the sheen of his muscles. Hysterical laughter bubbles at the back of Merlin’s throat as he catches himself about to tell Arthur he looks like a porn star because, yeah, well. He just sucks on Arthur’s tongue instead as he shifts for better leverage and feels Arthur crossing his ankles tighter around his waist, murmuring curses into Merlin’s mouth.

“What wouldn’t I do to push you down into the sheets right now,” he says thickly, thumbing at Arthur’s slit, working Arthur’s slick up and around the exposed head while he snaps his hips forward, left hand clutching at Arthur’s back to hold him in place. “Have your face buried in the covers, my fingers around your neck as you beg me to fuck you harder. While everyone’s watching. Yeah? You like showing off for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Arthur groans, throwing his head back, and Merlin licks up his neck, to his ear, teeth dragging on the outside of the shell. “I like it when you watch. Get so fucking hard when you’re there in your chair, telling me how to fuck somebody else.”

“After we have sex twice at night and another time in the morning too, you insatiable little slut.” He spanks Arthur once across one cheek, a stinging slap, and he’s rewarded with Arthur’s gasping _ah ah ahs,_ fingers scraping unsteadily at the dip of Merlin’s back through his shirt. 

“You like it when I show off too.” Arthur rocks back against Merlin, as if wanting to take him further in, like Merlin’s not seated all the way in already. “Gets you hard, yeah, saw you touching yourself.”

“Uh-huh. You looked so good fucking him, Arthur. The way you made him beg.” The way Merlin taught him to beg. “Wouldn’t you like everyone to see just how smooth, confident Arthur Knight gets pounded so hard he feels it every time he has to top another pretty-eyed boy on set? How he can still feel my cock when someone else is begging for his, hmm?” He slows down when Arthur’s breaths become sharper and more erratic, ignores Arthur’s desperate _don’t you fucking dare._

“You fucking did a number on me, all right,” Arthur mutters, though he winces when Merlin squeezes his cock warningly at that. “Felt it the entire time, when Mordred wanted me to go faster, God. I just kept thinking about you taking me from behind while I fucked him into the mattress.”

Merlin pauses for a bit, and presses his forehead against Arthur’s neck, hiding his smile. “There’s an idea.”

“You don’t seriously —”

“No, ‘course not. But that’s an image, isn’t it?” He pulls out, and gently eases Arthur back to stand on the floor, kissing his cheek. His hands are sweaty and wet with Arthur, but he tugs at Arthur’s arm to lead him towards the other room, where they’d filmed earlier. “Think about it. You, me, Mordred, on this queen-sized bed.”

“Good lord,” Arthur says faintly, eyes glazing over a little.

Smirking, Merlin looks back at Arthur over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

He sits down on his heavy-duty director’s chair, the frame barely sighing at his weight. Arthur had convinced the team to get it and surprise Merlin for his birthday last month, a beautiful sleek thing with a sturdy steel body and furnished with creamy-white leather. It was hefty for a director’s chair, but a lot more comfortable than some of the creaky monstrosities he’d had.

When Arthur just stares at him, Merlin raises an eyebrow, crooking a finger.

“No.” Arthur’s face cracks into a smile, though, his voice laced with disbelief.

“We haven’t broken it in yet,” Merlin says with aplomb, keeping a straight face. “You know you want to.”

“God, yes,” Arthur blurts, ripping his sodden shirt off so it lands on the rug near the bed, blending into the wine-red sheepskin as he stalks over the wooden flooring to Merlin’s chair. “You kinky bastard.”

“Speak for yourself.” Merlin shrugs off his own trousers and unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall softly on the floor too as Arthur straddles his lap, his thick cock nudging at Merlin’s stomach, his mouth on Merlin’s ear like the over-eager sex-crazed teenager he really is. Then again, Merlin thinks, with the eight years between them, that’s not too far a description of him. “Stay,” he says firmly, fisting Arthur’s mussed hair. “Keep your hands on the armrests, and don’t move.” 

Arthur shoots him a betrayed look, gesturing with significant glances at his cock none too subtly. “But—”

“Don’t move,” Merlin repeats, and Arthur sighs, biting his lip, glaring daggers at Merlin while he slowly slides his hands down Merlin’s arms to curl his fingers around the cool metal of the armrests. 

Huffing, Arthur’s breath is hot against Merlin’s forehead. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“You get a paycheck from me every month and I make you ask for my cock every night.” The legs framing his own are trembling with the effort of keeping upright, and Merlin presses a kiss to Arthur’s chin for his temporary obeisance, smoothing his hands over Arthur’s knees before moving up to his thighs. “I beg to differ.”

“Well, _technically._ ”

“And yet here you are, keeping yourself so still for me, even though you want to come so badly you’re shaking. You’d think after years of this you’d have gotten used to it, mm?”

The chair creaks the slightest bit as Arthur shifts, struggling to hold his position. “Sadist,” Arthur mutters, dropping his head to Merlin’s shoulder when Merlin draws feather-light touches along his inner thighs, down to the damp heat of his balls. “It’s practically conditioning by now, the way you — I can’t come, sometimes, unless you say. When you tell me to.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it, once in a while,” Merlin says conversationally, spitting and slicking up his other hand to work Arthur’s cock. The tension in Arthur’s body seems to spike, his cock jerking when Merlin rubs the palm of his hand against the base, pushing up until he clasps his fingers there, rubbing circles absently around the head. Sighing, Arthur closes his eyes and grits his teeth, groaning softly when Merlin slips his fingers inside him again, working him from the front and back. “To just let go and _listen._ ”

Maybe he’s ruined wanking somewhat for Arthur from the start, when he’d walked in on him in the shower once and just stood there, leaning against the wall, watching him. The running water had been loud, almost entirely masking the messy, obscene sound of skin sliding on skin. During the early days, Arthur hadn’t been so trusting of Merlin; Merlin had been the one keeping him in check, and Arthur had been a bit of a brat. He’d just glared defiantly at Merlin through the glass while he touched himself, resting the back of his head on the tiles as if in silent challenge. 

_You’re doing it too fast,_ Merlin had said softly, folding his arms and enjoying the way Arthur’s mouth fell open. How that wide-palmed hand froze mid-stroke. _Let me show you._ He’d had the pleasure of seeing Arthur’s come streaking the glass walls after he walked Arthur methodically through wanking himself, drawing it out like the most exquisite torture. Arthur had slumped boneless to the floor after, unable to stand. 

Despite what he conveys and what others think of him, Arthur _is_ good at listening to orders – if you know how to make him obey. Merlin certainly does.

“Not hard to.” Arthur says, snorting, shifting and testing his weight before he fucks himself on Merlin’s fingers, pressing down and up in a slow, lazy rhythm. “You never shut up.”

“ _You_ talk too much,” Merlin counters. “Cheeky bugger.”

Sweat trickles down Arthur’s legs as Merlin stops stroking him and takes his own cock in hand, teasing around the wet rim of Arthur’s reddened hole. He pushes Arthur down a little so his cockhead slides in, just a bit, but not nearly enough to fill Arthur up. It’s maddening, he knows, but Merlin’s not about to stop; he’s too used to having Arthur as his plaything during moments like this, too used to Arthur _wanting_ him to make him do this. “What do you want, then?” He sinks his fingers into Arthur’s hair, tightening his grip and pulling hard. “Tell me how you want me to fuck you, slut.”

Eyes shut, Arthur bites his lip, cocky smirk wavering at the bite of it. He swallows, and Merlin’s eyes follow the nervous bob of Arthur’s throat down to where sweat is pooling at the dip of his collarbone. “Want your m-mouth,” he says, jerking a bit when Merlin scissors his fingers slowly inside him, hitting the spot right there that robs him of coherence. Merlin catches one of Arthur’s nipples between his teeth, toys with the nub between flicks of his tongue. “Merlin—”

“Is that any way to get something you want?” He’s laving Arthur’s nipples now in earnest, sucking, making him keen while his fingers tremble where they’re gripping his armrest so hard the knuckles are going white. “Ask nicely.”

“Your mouth—” Arthur takes a deep breath, half-lidded eyes desperate and blue. “Please suck my cock.”

“Meekness is a good look on you,” Merlin observes, easing out of Arthur and patting him gently on his knee. “Lie down on your back. No, here, on the rug.”

“So pushy,” Arthur says without heat. He spreads himself out on the furry red rug, the sides of his legs bumping into the legs of Merlin’s chair, and huffs as he lies back with his arms under his head. “Happy now?”

“Almost,” Merlin says, and pulls Arthur’s legs towards him, propping his calves over his shoulders. He shifts Arthur’s body up so it’s almost off the rug, and leans over so Arthur’s bent over slightly, legs in the air. “You look wrecked, ” he murmurs appreciatively, taking in Arthur’s mussed hair and swollen lips.

“Whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Here, he can see all of Arthur – the clench of his hole, the precome dripping down his cock, the dazed but obstinate expression that he’s come to know all too well, having mapped it in the dark. “I love you like this, all spread open for me. Exposed and shameless, and you enjoy every minute of it.” He’s lowered the chair, so he only needs to move the smallest bit forward to lick at Arthur’s cock, to take that thick, glorious thing into his mouth. Arthur starts, but Merlin holds Arthur’s left thigh in place with his arm, sliding his other hand down to toy with Arthur’s rim.

“Fuck,” Arthur moans softly, turning his head to the side, lips brushing his shoulder. “God, you just... you’re so good at that.”

“My boyfriend’s a porn star, I’ve got to step up to the plate,” Merlin says between mouthfuls of cock and laving at Arthur’s balls. He pulls Arthur’s legs up further so he can lap at the soft skin hidden there, heavy with the smell of musk and slick. Arching into Merlin’s mouth, Arthur’s back curves off the ground, tufts of fur in his clenched fists. 

He strokes Arthur’s cock slowly while he eats him out, rings his thumb and forefinger at the base. Arthur’s so aroused, he’s dripping, and it’s easy to trail his fingers through the wetness there to fingerfuck Arthur again, assaulting his cock and hole with teeth and tongue.

Arthur’s never been one for patience. It’s not long before he’s thrashing against Merlin, legs shaking as he bucks upwards, his mouth open in wordless screams of pleasure. Brushing his fringe out of his eyes, Merlin drags his lips up the vein on Arthur’s cock and over the slit before swallowing him whole.

The light above them flickers; voices stream in from outside as Arthur cries out, cursing as he comes, hot spurts in Merlin’s mouth that Merlin gulps down, having long since done away with his gag reflex after years of fucking other porn stars. (Now, he only has the one porn star that he intends to keep.) Merlin pulls off, come trailing down his chin, and Arthur stretches out on the rug, his eyes half-closed and breathing heavily.

He joins Arthur there, legs on either side of Arthur’s, and leans down to kiss him. “Who would’ve guessed? You can behave.”

“Was I good, Mr. Emrys?” Arthur says lazily into the kiss, jerking Merlin down so he stumbles and falls on Arthur’s chest. Merlin glares at him, resting his chin on his hands there, but Arthur just raises an eyebrow. 

“You weren’t half-bad,” Merlin says, because he can.

Arthur smiles now, a little shy, and nuzzles at Merlin’s cheek. “I try to please you,” he says honestly.

Something inside Merlin melts despite himself at Arthur’s earnest, raw expression. “And you do, Arthur.” He caresses Arthur’s shoulder, before cupping Arthur’s cheek, tilting his face up so he can’t look away from Merlin. For all of Arthur’s bluster in front of others, his confidence and smooth charm, he’s the more insecure one between them. Men and women alike fall at Arthur’s feet when he drawls their names while looking like a born-again English Adonis, but he lets his guard down in front of Merlin, crushed beneath the weight of the expectations others have of him as the leading star of the studio and his ever-lingering doubts that Merlin’s way too good for him.

“Sex with you is great,” he continues, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s forehead, linking their hands. “Being with you is great, even if we have to keep things a secret for a little while longer, and working with you is a lot better now that you’re not such an ass anymore.”

Arthur swats at him, and Merlin laughs. “You’re doing great, all right? Your acting’s only improved with time, and you deserve all the recognition you’re getting.”

Wrapping his arms around Merlin, Arthur closes his eyes and sinks into the embrace. “Thank you,” he says, and looks up at Merlin again, as if remembering something. “You haven’t...”

Merlin blinks, and runs his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “It’s fine. I get off on you getting off, you know that.”

“None of that.” Hooking a leg around Merlin’s waist, Arthur flips them over so that he’s on top of Merlin on the rug, locking Merlin’s wrists down. Too surprised to speak, Merlin feels his lust reviving as Arthur takes his cock in hand clumsily, leaning down so his fringe is falling in Merlin’s face. “I want to make you feel good. May I?”

Fierce affection overwhelms him. Merlin tucks some stray strands of hair behind Arthur’s ear, taking in that determined expression. “What era are we in, the 1950s?” He lets his hands rest low on Arthur’s hips as Arthur eases his cock in, moving down with one splayed palm on Merlin’s stomach until Merlin’s fully seated inside him. “Fuck, I love it when you ride me.”

“Mmm.” Arthur circles his hips experimentally, grinning when it makes Merlin groan. He’s always had a thing for built men, and Arthur’s one of the fittest blokes he’s ever dated. Those muscular thighs locked on either side of him are pure sin, flexing as Arthur eases himself off and back down, fucking himself on Merlin’s cock. “Give it to me, then,” Arthur says, mimicking the classic porn falsetto. 

“Keep that up and I’m not going to have a stiffy to give you,” Merlin retorts, but he thrusts up punishingly against Arthur at an angle, matching Arthur’s rhythm as he pushes down. Arthur’s half-hard again, erection jerking every time Merlin fucks into him. “Shit, the rug burn’s going to be terrible in the morning.”

“Hell with the rug burns,” Arthur moans, head falling back as he works his hips, one hand wanking himself off furiously. “Fucking love your cock, Merlin. Do me harder, fuck, _harder_ —”

If he didn’t know any better — and he certainly does, having seen Arthur actually _act_ out his porn scenes — Merlin would’ve thought Arthur was having him on. But his cock’s leaking again as he quickens the pace, taking Merlin to the edge, and then there’s nothing Merlin can do in his haze of desire but to oblige. 

“I’m gonna,” Arthur chokes out, after a while, but Merlin growls and clamps down on his cock at the base. “Not until I say.” 

“ _Merlin—”_

He holds Arthur there after, slowing down so he’s sliding inside Arthur at an agonising pace until Arthur’s begging him, begging him for his cock, to — “Just let me _come!”_

“Now,” Merlin says finally, snapping out the order and taking off his hand. He comes inside Arthur, shouting Arthur’s name when Arthur clenches tight around him, the pleasure drowning out everything else. Merlin knows the exact moment Arthur loses control, too, when he sinks his nails into Merlin’s thighs, trembling as he rides his second orgasm out and coming weakly all over Merlin’s stomach.

Merlin’s pretty sure the entire block heard them.

“Sometimes,” Arthur says later, tucked against Merlin’s side as Merlin strokes his hair lazily, “I really hate you.”

“Nah.” Merlin says, linking their fingers together. “I’d like to see you find another director who fucks you as good as I do.”

Arthur huffs, biting at Merlin’s ear. “I could give it a try. And then what?”

“I’ll come after you, you know.”

“Huh. You’d work at someone else’s studio?”

“Maybe.” He traces patterns on the back of Arthur’s palm, fingers catching on the ring he’d gifted to Arthur. Arthur feels it, and looks over at Merlin, his expression softening when Merlin speaks. “I’d moonlight as a fluffer, come up to you when you least expect it, convince you to come back to me with your dick in my mouth.”

“You filthy bastard.” Arthur rolls over and straddles Merlin again. “There’s no way in hell I can resist your blowjobs.”

“I fight dirty to keep what’s mine.”

There’s a pause, silence enveloping the room but for their breathing between them. 

“You don’t have to.” Arthur holds Merlin’s hands up over his head, leaning in to slide his mouth over Merlin’s. “I’ve been yours since the day we met.” 

“My very own porn star.” An idea comes to him, unbidden, and Merlin smiles wickedly. “That should absolutely be the title of our next film.”

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

>  **For Merlin Sexstars' prompt #4:**  
>  Arthur is a famous porn star, well known for two things: 1) he only tops in the films he stars in, 2) he only works with one director, the equally reknowned Merlin Emrys. What most people don't know is that the two have secretly been together for years, and nothing gets Merlin hotter than watching his boyfriend/husband fuck other men. (As for that only topping thing? That's because Arthur's ass belongs to Merlin and Merlin alone.)
> 
>  **Comment on safe sex practices in porn:**  
>  wasn't sure where to put this, but this is as good a place as any. The writing in this fic operates with the assumption that practices such as extremely frequent and regular health checks are conducted to ensure utmost safety with the barebacking depicted in most pornography films. The same goes with the diligent care and cleaning up after, changing of linens and such.


End file.
